


The Corridor

by Delight007



Category: Original Work
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, References to Depression, Short Story, mature content, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delight007/pseuds/Delight007





	The Corridor

We find ourselves in a corridor. As we open our eyes, we look and see plain, off white walls. No windows nor doors in sight. We look behind. The same view meets our eyes. We shift our gaze to the ceiling, which is plain as well, but with bright florescent lights that beat down on us. And because it is the only place we have not looked; we glance to the floor. It is unremarkable in the way that the rest of the corridor is. We start walking forward. Down the corridor, not really sure what we are looking for, but we will know it when we find it.

We have been walking for what’s felt like ages already. Our legs in constant pain. Feet aching. But no matter how hard we try we cannot seem to stop walking.

It has definitely been days since we started walking. We are dead on our feet. We are moving so slowly. Every time we think we are finally going to faint from exhaustion, our foot moves forward again. We are so tired… so very tired.

Our feet have started to bleed. Dried tears cling to our pain-stricken face as we are forced to continue this march to what we hope is freedom but more realistically, we think is our painful demise.

We have finally fallen. But sleep has still evaded us. Instead of walking, we are now forced to crawl. Somehow, we move forward. Moving ever slower. If we have not found anything yet, we fear we never will.

The skin on our knees is more fragile than on our feet so it does not take nearly as long for our knees to become a bloody mess. But at least now we are numb to the pain.

We can’t feel our legs. We can’t move them. We thought that maybe we would be able to rest but then our arms reached out and started to drag our near lifeless body further down the corridor. A fresh wave of tears spills down our cheeks. Our pride and dignity are thrown out the metaphorical window as we beg and plead for the pain and agony to end.

We have never known suffering like this. This level of hopelessness is a strange new feeling. We don’t even hope for relief or freedom. We want death. We want the pain to go away. We don’t want to live in this constant struggle of staying alive. We are tired. A kind of tired that catches on every bone and gets caught in our soul. We didn’t want this. We didn’t ask for this. We fought with our blood sweat and tears. We tried to escape. But we are stuck here. In this corridor. No one is coming to save us. And no one is coming to kill us. We are here because we put ourselves here. And we can’t escape because we aren’t ready to be saved. And we aren’t ready to die. So, we walk this corridor in pain and agony until we are ready. For salvation or death, no one knows. But each of us has our own corridor. How long and painful the walk depends on you.


End file.
